


Overcome

by Anonymous



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Bruises, Crying, Drunkenness, Face Slapping, Grief/Mourning, M/M, No Lube, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Kissing, Rape, Sibling Incest, Taunting/Mocking, non-consensual anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11366388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Maglor, following Fëanor's death and Maedhros' captivity, has no idea how to handle ruling. Curufin, meanwhile, samples the local brew with devastating effects.





	Overcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krubera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krubera/gifts).



In the darkness, the only way to tell time was by hourglass, which measured out four watches per day. The best of Maglor's calculations figured that 34 watches had passed since Fëanor's death, and 27 since the departure of Maedhros with the flower of the Fëanorian force. Despair hung over the Mithrim camp, blacker than the darkness itself. 

All was silent. There had been no further attacks, and they'd spent the first few 'days' shoring up their defensible fort, bedding it down with heavy sand from the lakeshore. Celegorm led the efforts there, and even he was quiet and subdued, calling orders out from time to time, but with no life in his voice. 

Maglor, ostensibly the one in charge now, felt all at sea. The battered and scorched crown that Fëanor had died in, and that Maedhros left in his care, felt heavy and ineffectual on his head. He knew nothing of what to do, and for the first time in his life, wished that he had taken more time to understand politics and leadership. Every decision seemed to involve a dozen second-guesses, problems cropping up in hindsight that he had not foreseen. 

Even music was no longer an escape, for the confusion, distress, and grief in his mind made itself manifest in jangled chords, lost and broken fragments of verse, his voice breaking, his fingers losing their skill and stumbling on his instruments. He would nevertheless try to play, until one or another of his brothers came to take the abused harp from his sore fingers and set it aside. 

Most often it was Curufin who did this, silently taking the harp away, placing it down a few paces beyond the chair Maglor sat in, then returning and wrapping his arms tight around Maglor. From there, a kiss dropped softly on Maglor's lips felt almost like a natural progression, and Maglor, night after night, found himself craving the small comfort his brother's embrace brought him. 

One night, very late into the third watch, Maglor plucked erratically at his harp. The heavy stone walls deadened sound, so he was not concerned about waking anyone up. Though the acoustics were terrible, he was beginning to find a coherent melody as Curufin crashed into the room. 

But this was not the Curufin who tenderly embraced him before. This was a Curufin changed. He lurched inside and stumbled, catching himself with a hand to the doorframe. 

Maglor raised his head, worried. "Are you well, brother?" 

"Never better!" Curufin answered, slightly too loud. "Stop that racket and com'ere." 

Maglor set the harp aside and stood, wrapping his light robe more securely around himself. "Are you sure you're well?" he asked. "Have you drunk anything unusual?" He came forward, placing a hand on Curufin's shoulder and peering into his eyes.

"Just a bit of the local tipple," Curufin said, blinking. "Good stuff. Haven't had anything like it for a long time." He paused, a little out of breath, and seized Maglor's shoulders. "You should have some. Makes you care about...nothing at all. Makes you want...everything you really want." He leaned forward, and Maglor realised that he was going to kiss him only an instant before their lips met. 

But this was no brotherly kiss. This was something fierce and wild. Maglor could taste the harsh liquor in Curufin's mouth, could feel his tongue pressing against his lips, pushing into his mouth without warning. Curufin's grip, forge-hardened, became like a vise, and though Maglor tried to pull his head back and get out of the kiss, he was unable. Curufin plundered his mouth, holding him still. 

Maglor gasped, thrashing, and finally managed to pull back far enough to break the kiss. "What is this?" he whispered. "Curvo...!"

Curufin's eyes were lust-darkened, hazy with desire, and his arousal was clear, tenting the thin robe he was wearing. He was still holding Maglor by the shoulders, and suddenly pushed him back toward the low bed at the other end of the room. "Get your clothes off," he said, stalking toward Maglor as he staggered backwards from the force of the push, landing with a thump on the bed. 

"No!" Maglor exclaimed, horrified. "No, Curvo, you can't make me do this!" 

"How are you going to stop me?" Curufin said, still moving toward him, shedding his own clothing. "I can do anything I like to you. What are you going to do, run to Nelyo? Oh wait, you can't! Run to Father? Oh, no, you can't do that either! Run screaming into the hall and tell all our followers? They'd lose all trust in you to guide us, not that they have much anyway."

"You're my brother," Maglor said, huddling into a defensive position, arms around his legs, as Curufin loomed over him. "I love you dearly. Please, please, do not do this. You are drunk. You will regret it."

Curufin pounced on him, tearing the light robe away from his back, peeling his fingers off from where they were clasped around his knees, and grabbing his wrists, hard enough to bruise. He climbed atop him, pushing him down into the bed as Maglor squirmed, still trying to get away, and suddenly gathered both wrists into one strong hand, slapping him hard across the face with the other. 

Maglor gasped breathlessly at the sudden explosion of pain across his senses. Curufin slapped him again, harder this time, so hard his ears rang with the force of it and tears sprang into his eyes. "No, no, please no more," he gasped, going limp in Curufin's grasp. 

Curufin bent down and bit at his lips almost to the point of drawing blood, until Maglor let him deepen the kiss and plunder his mouth again. His mind was reeling and his face throbbing from the pain. Tears leaked from his eyes as Curufin pressed against him, his prominent erection sliding over Maglor's belly. It hurt where he pressed it into Maglor's stomach. A wave of nausea swept over him and for a moment he thought he would be sick. 

"Bite me and I'll make you regret it," Curufin said, sliding up his body to force his cock into Maglor's mouth. The invasion was so sudden that Maglor couldn't even contemplate biting, but covered his teeth just in time to avoid it. He all but choked on Curufin's length, the heavy weight of him in his mouth, the bitter taste flooding the back of his throat until that was all he could think of. Weakly, he moved his tongue a little, hoping that Curufin would give up soon enough. 

"That's good, more of that," Curufin said, hands fisted in his hair, pulling it so hard Maglor could barely move his head. It was like the rest of him had gone limp too, his arms pinned by Curufin's thighs, his legs unmoving like they were not even part of him anymore. He could barely manage to suck the thick cock, but just being in a mouth seemed to be enough for Curufin, who moved his hips now and again, lazily thrusting into Maglor to the point of choking him, then moving back just in time to let him breathe. His balls were pressed up against Maglor's chin, the light, coarse, hair that covered them making him feel itchy. 

The only warning Maglor received that Curufin was about to come was the abrupt tightening of his balls and swelling of his cock. Maglor choked, spluttering, on the seed, and Curufin withdrew as he came, spattering Maglor's face and hair with jet after jet of semen. 

As Curufin withdrew, Maglor gathered himself together and slid out from under him, wiping the seed from his face, trying to make a dash for it. Where he was trying to go he knew not, just that he had to escape that room. But Curufin, even in the aftermath of the throes of orgasm, was too quick and powerful for him, and caught him just as he was about to open the door, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him back across the room toward the bed, scraping his bottom painfully along the rough stone floor. 

"You shouldn't be so good at sucking cock, brother," Curufin said mockingly, throwing him on the bed again. "What else are you good at? I thought your little romance with Gildor never went anywhere!"

"Don't mention his name!" Maglor said, raising his voice for the first time. 

"Why, have I found your weak spot at last?" Curufin said, suiting the action to the word and pressing a dry finger into Maglor's hole. "Did you let _him_ take you?"

Maglor shook his head wildly. The pain of that dry breach was almost beyond words. He could see Curufin, with his other hand, touching himself, rousing his cock to full hardness again. His own cock lay limp between his legs, and as he glanced at it, Curufin seemed to realise it was there too. 

"Not having a good time, brother?" Curufin asked. He bent forward and licked Maglor's cock, still pressing one finger in and out of him. Maglor closed his eyes, fighting nausea again, struggling not to feel arousal of any kind. 

It was a losing battle. Curufin finally took him all the way into his mouth at the same time as he pressed something inside Maglor that made his body feel a kind of overwhelming sensation. To his jangled nerves, it was half pleasure, half pain. 

Curufin took his finger out of Maglor and almost immediately replaced it with two. Maglor struggled in vain to relax. His fists were clenched at his sides, nails cutting into his palms. He could not open his eyes. Frantically, he hummed faint songs of long ago to himself as slow tears fell from his eyes, sliding down his face. It could have been a moment or an eternity that Curufin was fingering him open, sucking his cock all the while. He was aware of dim sensation but it did not register as pleasure, more as torment. 

When Curufin finally thrust into him, Maglor abruptly jerked back to reality. The pain of it was overwhelming, and absent stimulation, he lost his erection. Curufin did not seem to notice, and thrust hard and fast, ignoring the fact that Maglor was neither relaxed nor open enough for him. The slow echo of deep internal pain registered after a moment, and Maglor realised he was bleeding inside. The blood, to his relief, was slick, making the way a bit easier. 

Curufin came again with a low groan, thrusting deep into him and withdrawing slowly to collapse down beside him. Maglor stared mindlessly into the distance, feeling the weight of his brother's arm across his chest and the slow trickle of mingled blood and seed from his hole, overcome with grief and pain. He did not sleep that night, and when the bells sounded for the morning watch, rose from the bed where Curufin lay in a drunken stupor, and washed himself thoroughly, over and over. He had bruises on his wrists, on his belly, on his shoulders; his lips were bitten raw, and his eyes bloodshot. 

Carefully, he put on his best set of robes, long enough that the sleeves covered his wrists, donned the heavy crown, and went out to take his seat on the rough wooden throne. Much later that day, when Curufin emerged, giving him a guilty and fearful glance, he said nothing to him at all.


End file.
